


Welcome to the Night Carnival

by Aenaria



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, F/M, I'm not sure where this story came from, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, but I rather like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want me to stay?” she asks.</p>
<p>“Of course I do,” Steve says.  “But this place...it’s not what you think it is.  The Carnival gets inside you.  And once you’re there…”  He trails off, fingers flexing lightly on her face.  “You’d have to give up everything you have here.  And once you’re in, there’s no going back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the Night Carnival

**Author's Note:**

> From the following prompt by a lovely anonymous on my tumblr: "Prompt: Steve/Darcy AU where the Avengers are all workers at a circus and Jane and Darcy meet them while the circus is in town for a week." This doesn’t quite fit in with the initial prompt, though most of the elements are there. I’d initially intended to set this story at Coney Island with all of the carnivals there, but then I saw those posts a couple of weeks back featuring abandoned amusement parks and this sprung out of there. Apparently it’s also got some thematic/atmospheric similarities with the book ‘The Night Circus’, but please keep in mind I’ve never read the book, so any similarities are purely coincidental. What this story is is definitely Darcy x Steve, definitely AU, and more than a little ambiguous in places, but I’m rather fond of it. I hope you enjoy it as well.

“You can’t stay,” he whispers, wet lips pressing against her temple.  Darcy doesn’t say anything, just snuggles back into Steve’s broad chest until he wraps his arms even tighter around her.

 

It’s the last evening of the Night Carnival, and in the morning it’ll be like they were never there at all.  The carnival is the stuff of legends, alighting in towns for a fortnight once in a blue moon, full of sights and shows and people unlike any on Earth.  From the man with the iron heart that glows like moonlight to the man in green only some of the time, all of them give glimpses into worlds that are barely comprehensible to the human mind, talking about myths and legends and gods as if somewhere, somehow, they really, truly exist.

 

Most people pass them off as fun and scary stories, but Darcy knows better.  That these things are real, that this other world exists, and is calling to her.

 

And then there’s Steve, artist and part time strongman.  She had a portrait sketched by him the first night of the Carnival, and came back every night since because she couldn’t get enough of talking to him.  It’s not her usual style - she’s hardly ever that obsessive about  anything \- but the smile that spreads across his face every time he sees her poke her head through the flaps of his tent keeps her coming back.  The combination of old-fashioned gentleman and youthful optimism is entrancing, Darcy thinks, and all she wants to do is peel his layers back so she can learn all of his secrets.

 

From some of the stories he’s told her, in his offhand comments and sly glances, Darcy gets the impression that Steve’s fought in World War Two once upon a time.  This should be impossible for a man who looks like he’s in his late twenties here and now in 2014, but she’s learning quickly that there are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in her philosophy.

 

She also didn’t believe in love at first sight either, but the way Steve looks at her, like he can’t quite believe that she’s real and there with him, convinces her otherwise.  What they’ve got, this fast friendship that’s turned into so much more, is so rare and beautiful Darcy can’t bear to give it up.  She’s stubborn like that.

 

Darcy shakes her head, resting it against Steve’s shoulder.  “Do you  want me to stay?” she asks.

 

“Of course I do,” Steve says, burying her face in his hair.  The tent is lit by one dim lantern, but it’s impossible to miss how his hands clutch at her desperately.  “But this place...it’s not what you think it is.”  He cups her face in one hand, turning her so that she can look into his clear blue eyes.  “The Carnival gets inside you.  And once you’re there…”  He trails off, fingers flexing lightly on her face.  “You’d have to give up everything you have here.  And once you’re in, there’s no going back.”

 

Darcy nudges her foot against the backpack resting against the haybale they’re sitting on.  It contains everything that matters to her: her laptop, her grandmother’s jewelry, a photo album full of pictures of people who no longer exist, her iPod, and some other trinkets.  “I’m prepared for that,” she says.  Darcy takes his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together.  “Steve, this is my choice.  There is nothing left for me here, not really.”  She shrugs, shoulders twitching almost spasmodically under her light coat.  “Family’s all gone, and half the time Jane doesn’t even realize I’m alive until she runs out of coffee.  An unpaid internship’s only going to take me so far.”  She presses her forehead to Steve’s, feeling her eyes fall shut.  “I want an adventure - and I want you.  I want you to show me everything imaginable.”

 

“You’ve got me,” Steve says, and she can hear the smile in his voice.  “And I guarantee the adventure will come.”  He stands up, placing her on her feet and picking up her backpack.  “Come on,” he says.  “One quick introduction, and then we’ll see about getting you a bunk for the night.”

 

Darcy’s got some thoughts about that, but she figures she’ll hold her tongue until later.

 

Steve leads her through the deserted Carnival grounds, which are looking paler and more decrepit than ever in the moonlight.  Usually night is when the Carnival comes to life, with everything happening all at once, but on this last night the rides are locked and barred, all of the animals are tucked away for the night, the staff’s nowhere to be seen, and the assorted flags and banners are now torn and faded, looking like a strong breeze will reduce them to nothing.  They come to an old, silver Airstream trailer and Steve knocks on the door four times, sharply.  Only a couple of seconds pass before the door is opened.  There’s a man there, dirty blond hair and maybe a decade older than Steve.  Next to him is a young woman with a blade in her hand, sharp eyes trained on the people opposite her.  She looks relaxed, but Darcy’s under the impression that she could strike, lash out at any moment.  “Nat, Clint,” Steve says, nodding at them as he squeezes Darcy’s hand.  “This is Darcy.  She’s going to be staying with us now.”

 

Clint gives Darcy a hard stare, then he looks over at Nat.  Nat turns her own gaze to Darcy, who can’t help but squirm under the scrutiny.  Finally Nat turns solemn eyes back to Clint and nods once, decisively.  “All right,” Clint replies.  “Welcome, Darcy.”

 

“Thanks,” Darcy mumbles, holding onto Steve’s hand even tighter.

 

“Now get her inside Steve,” Clint continues, giving Darcy a warm grin that lights up his entire face.  “Night’s almost done, and we’ll be moving as soon as the sun’s up.”

 

“Will do,” Steve says.  “I’ll see you when we’ve stopped.”

 

It only take them a couple of minutes to reach Steve’s caravan, and old wooden contraption that reminds Darcy of something out of the Wizard of Oz, of all things.  It’s cozy inside, full of warm colors and light woods, with Steve’s artwork tacked up haphazardly on the walls.  “Bathroom’s back that way,” Steve says, waving a hand at a narrow door at the back of the caravan as he puts her backpack on the table that’s loaded down with art supplies.  “It’s, uh...it’s a tight squeeze, I know, but we’ll get you set up with your own quarters when we’ve stopped again.”

 

Darcy glances around the caravan, taking in the world’s smallest kitchen set-up, an overstuffed embroidered armchair and ottoman, and a long bed set up against one wall.  “It’s cozy,” she agrees, perching on the edge of the bed and bouncing a couple of times.  “But I think we can make it work.”  She looks over at Steve, who’s standing there all awkward and endearing with his thumbs tucked into his suspenders, and she allows a slow grin to overtake her face.  She reaches out and hooks a finger into one of his suspenders, tugging him close.  “Would you mind sharing for a while?”

 

The look Steve gives her is unlike any she’s ever received before, heavy with meaning and making the back of her neck burn.  It’s all she can do to pull at the suspenders and bring Steve closer to her as she lets herself fall back into the pile of pillows on the bed.  He follows the momentum Darcy provides, kissing her hard as his body settles atop hers and presses her back into the mattress.

 

From there it’s the feeling of skin against skin as clothes are shed, how she wraps her legs around his narrow hips to keep him as close to her as possible, how he breathes her name against her lips as she runs her hands over his shoulders, how she can feel his heart pound under her mouth as he slides inside her, over and over again, until the sun comes up and burns the night away.

 

**********

 

The next day, as the morning comes over the old fairgrounds, it’s clear to see that nature’s begun to reclaim the detritus the Night Carnival left behind, vines, grasses, and trees growing over pipes and struts until the place looks like it’s been abandoned for decades.  The day after that, it’s like nothing had ever been there before.

 

On that second day since the Night Carnival closed, Jane Foster reports one Darcy Lewis as missing, having not come to work for a couple of days now.  The police find Darcy’s car parked out at the old fairgrounds, but no other trace of her.  The missing person’s case is eventually shelved due to lack of evidence, like she’s just disappeared into thin air.

 

**********

 

“How about...professional artist’s muse?” Darcy suggests, leaning back against the bales of hay inside the tent as she watches Steve set up his art supplies for the day.

 

Steve passes by her to grab a sketchpad, leaning down to steal a kiss from her lips.  “While I approve of the idea wholeheartedly, I’m not sure how you’d like strangers gawking at you.”

 

“True,” she muses, twirling a piece of hay between her fingers.  Her eyes flick over to Steve’s hands, long fingers moving easily as they line up pencils and charcoals into neat formations.  “But I’ll let you gawk at me all you want.”

  
Steve just grins at her and grabs a pencil, starting to sketch and bring the rough outline of her face to life on the notepad.

**Author's Note:**

> More fics, fic talk, inspirational pictures, and other babbles can be found at my tumblr: aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com. Thanks for reading!


End file.
